forget the triumphant expression of his face, nor the mocking irony of his voice, as he begged me to accept his best wishes for my future happiness and progress.

"I tried in vain to reply. The words I would have spoken died away in a husky and unintelligible whisper; and it was as much as I could do to maintain even the semblance of composure. I think, indeed, I must have quite given way, had I not caught a momentary glimpse of the utter helplessness and agony depicted upon my beloved father's countenance; and, knowing that it was for me he grieved, I determined not to allow him to see how deeply I also was moved by this sudden and mysterious appearance.

"You will do me the injustice to believe," he added with a sombre air, "that it was not the mere fact of Edmund's return, and consequently of the changed aspect of my own worldly prospects, which affected me. But when I reflected upon his inexcusable conductfirst, in pretending that he had died, allowing us for eight years to remain under this impression, and thus compelling his father and me to commit various illegal acts in the management of the property; and, secondly, in purposely selecting such an unseasonable time and place for reasserting his rights-I could hardly restrain my indignation."

"It was disgraceful conduct!" said Herbert, with emphatic warmth; "do you really suppose him guilty of malice prepense ?"

66

Certes; he confessed it himself," answered Mr. Hastings, vehemently. "When I saw him alone, I remonstrated with him on the public manner in which he had seen fit to announce his arrival, and with an exultant laugh he replied that his object was to create a sensation. God knows he succeeded in his wish," muttered the young man, bitterly.

"But regarding his past history," questioned Herbert, seriously; "how does he account for his long absence? and what motive can he ascribe for leading you to think him dead?"

"Oh, it was a trick," cried Charles Hastings, wrathfully, his cheeks colouring with shame and anger—" a mean, pitiful trick." "And his illness?"

“A simple fabrication. It is true he was staying at Alexandria when my father received his last letter, and it is likewise true that he entertained some fears lest he should fall a victim to the cholera. However, he escaped; but his servant, having caught the dangerous epidemic and died, Edmund resolved on alleging that it was himself. Accordingly, to prevent us from detecting the ruse, he had the poor fellow interred under the name of Hastings, and employed a person to insert a notice of the death in the English newspapers."

"Really this is going beyond a joke," said Herbert, in astonish

ment.

"At all times, and in every company, he repeats the story," continued Mr. Hastings, sadly, "and boasts of his cleverness in having deceived us into believing it."

"What could have incited him to act in such an outrageous manner?" murmured Herbert, thoughtfully.

"He

"Envy, hatred, and malice," rejoined his friend, passionately. envied me my father's affection; hated me as the innocent cause of his being checked in his career of reckless extravagance; and, in order to gratify his malice, and revenge his fancied wrongs, he delibe

rately determined on humbling me by heaping these unheard-of indignities upon my head.

"You cannot conceive half the suffering I have endured since Edmund's return," he went on with increased vehemence. "Instead of having improved in character, he has grown much worse; for, though he can still appear and act like a gentleman, when it pleases him to do so, his manner towards myself is uniformly domineering and overbearing.

“As might be anticipated, his old set of dissipated companions have, with few exceptions, again rallied around him; and the artful dexterity with which he imposed upon us all is, in their estimation, a proof of inimitable skill, worthy of the highest commendation.

"If I am at any time brought into their society, a laugh is instantly raised at my expense; while my poor father, who is almost heartbroken, lives in constant dread of being called upon to meet the pecuniary demands which must, he feels sure, sooner or later, be made upon him. Notwithstanding his candour on other subjects, Edmund has not yet condescended to inform us who furnished him with funds during the eight years succeeding his supposed death; but we suspect that Jews, or other money-lenders, have frequently advanced large sums to him on the strength of his prospects."

"It is a sad story," said Herbert, in a tone of heartfelt sympathy; "I cannot tell you how grieved I am.”

"Ah! I have not told you all," cried Mr. Hastings, evidently subjecting his passion by the most rigorous self-command; "the hardest stroke is yet to come."

Herbert looked and felt intensely interested, but he made no rejoinder; and his friend-still putting a strong curb upon himself, lest he should give utterance to the violent emotion that stirred his very soul with agony-resumed in a low, stifled voice,

"You have heard of my being engaged to Miss Rosalie Granville : -the day for our marriage actually fixed-and

He paused. A heavy cloud rolled over his brow, his lips quivered, and his hands involuntarily clenched!

Herbert gazed anxiously at him, and breathlessly waited for his next words.

They soon came.

"It did not occur to me," proceeded he, in the aforesaid low tone, that this unexpected change of fortune would necessarily involve any difficulty in that quarter; but I was miserably deceived.

"When I next called I saw, not herself, but her mother, the coldness and constraint of whose reception contrasted sadly with her former warmth and kindness. On my inquiring for Rosalie, she seemed considerably embarrassed, and, with a good deal of hesitation, and many regrets, she suggested the propriety of my withdrawing the claim I had on her daughter's hand, as I could never fulfil the conditions on which alone I obtained it!"

"All the arguments I used to induce her to allow things to remain in their present state were unavailing. She listened coolly and disdainfully to my plans for the future, and smiled contemptuously when I spoke of accepting a lucrative appointment I had lately been offered abroad.

"As a last hope, I requested to see Rosalie herself, and take my dismissal from her own lips, but this was peremptorily refused; Mrs.

Granville declared she saw no object in exposing her to the pain and annoyance which such a distressing interview would naturally occasion; while, at the same time, she gave me clearly to understand that I should gain nothing by persisting in making this unreasonable demand, as the young lady knew her duty too well to offer the slightest opposition to the wishes of her parents.

"I had no choice, therefore, but to leave the house; and in the course of the day I received a formal note from Rosalie, asking me to release her from the engagement. The handwriting was certainly hers; still, I could not believe that she wrote it of her own free will, and, before answering it, I resolved on making a final attempt to obtain an interview.

"I chose the evening, as the most likely time for finding her alone; and instead of going round by the principal entrance, as I had done in the morning, I took one of the walks leading through the small, copse-like plantation at the side of their house.

"Presently the sound of voices reached me, and, being in no mood for meeting strangers, I tried to screen myself from observation by stepping behind some tall evergreens until they should have passed by. As I stood thus, looking dejectedly upon the ground, and thinking only of my own troubles, a loud laugh grated harshly and all too familiarly on my ear; and, seized by a feverish dread, I hastily raised my eyes. Within three yards of me were Mrs. Granville and her son-in-law, Mr. Dacey, while Rosalie and my brother brought up the rear, apparently well pleased with each other, and in high spirits. The young lady's face was radiant with smiles, and, though I watched her keenly, I could not detect the faintest trace of sadness or remorse. Of course I made no further effort to ascertain her sentiments; but, returning home, I sent, as desired, a letter annulling our engagement; and, since then, Edmund has never ceased paying her attention, both in public and in private.

"And, now that I have told you all, Herbert, can you blame me if my blood boils in my veins when I reflect upon the conduct of this unnatural brother, and that I am tempted to wish him

"Don't repeat that terrible wish," said Herbert, with gentle earnestness; "rather thank God, dear Charles, for having spared him to repent of his wickedness."

"You forget the suffering he has so mercilessly inflicted on me," replied Mr. Hastings, reproachfully.

"No, I admit that he has wronged you most cruelly," said Herbert, and my heart bleeds for you; still

"I could have forgiven the rest, if he had not robbed me of Rosalie Granville's affection," observed the much-injured young man, as if arguing the matter with himself.

"Notwithstanding what has transpired, do you still care for her?" inquired Herbert, a little anxiously.

"Yes, fool that I am, I do."

Herbert regarded him for a minute or two without speaking; at length he said, "You will soon get over it, Charles."

A very decided shake of the head and tight pressure of the lips seemed to contradict this assertion; but Herbert went on,

"Deeply as I feel for you, I have no hesitation in affirming that it would have been a mutual misfortune, had your union with Miss Granville taken place."

"What do you mean?" demanded Mr. Hastings, starting up in the highest degree of excitement.

"Your character, tastes, and habits are totally unlike," said Herbert in a mild, though firm and decided tone. "Your warm, eager, impulsive nature could never become assimilated to her cold and calculating spirit; and it is not less true that she would weary of your demonstrative affection, than you be disgusted with her frigid and unimpressible disposition."

"You seem to have studied us well," remarked Mr. Hastings, interested in spite of his grief.

"I have," returned Herbert, simply; " and, to be candid with you, I often regretted your choice."

"I did not consider her cold," retorted Mr. Hastings, somewhat piqued.

"No," answered his friend, scarcely able to repress a smile; "in your opinion she was all that is good and excellent; and I confess that, judging merely by external appearances, I might have formed the same favourable estimate of her character. But" this was added very gravely, and with palpable reluctance-" there is such a thing as artificial polish; and although it would be difficult for the most critical eye to discover a fault in Miss Granville's person or manner, I am persuaded that the refinement, grace, and elegance which distinguish her, as well as the smoothness and amiability of her temper, are not natural, but acquired-the result of education and policy."

"You speak strongly, Herbert," returned Mr. Hastings, contemplating him in gloomy astonishment; "even supposing it to be correct, how could you have found out all this?"

"Why, love being proverbially blind," said Herbert, gently, "it was scarcely to be imagined that your eyes would be as clear and unprejudiced as mine. Besides, I have accidentally seen her when she had no object in showing herself kind and polite

"How-where?" inquired the discarded lover.

Among those whom she deemed her inferiors in birth and station," replied Herbert; "and once, again, I marked her conduct to a poor, destitute, and aged widow, who had ventured to solicit her aid. But I have said enough," he added, abruptly; "God forbid that, in trying to show you the little real worth of what you have lost, I should overstep the bounds of Christian charity."

CHAPTER XLVI.

TABLE TALK.

"The lopped tree in time may grow again,
Most naked plants renew both fruit and flower,
The sorriest wight may find release of pain,

The driest soil suck in some moistening shower:
Time goes by turns, and chances change by course,
From foul to fair, from better hap to worse.

"The sea of Fortune doth not ever flow;

She draws her favours to the lowest ebb;
Her tides have equal times to come and go;

Her loom doth weave the fine and coarsest web:
No joy so great, but runneth to an end;

No hap so hard, but may in time amend."

SOUTHWELL.

THE Conversation between the two friends did not terminate until the loud striking of a clock proclaimed it to be midnight. Then Herbert, mindful of the fatiguing journey his guest had accomplished, started up, and urged him to retire to rest.

At that instant the drawing-room door was opened, and a servant appeared with a large Bible, which she silently placed upon the table. Charles Hastings sank back in his chair on seeing this, and, by a slightly imperative gesture, signified his intention of remaining where

he was.

His attitude (as James Gordon and his aunt came in and took their seats) denoted extreme listlessness and dejection; but a thrill of indescribable emotion agitated his frame, and something very closely resembling a tear softened the eyes which had recently flashed with anger and bitterness, when these words-so complete with meaning-so rich in comfort-so calculated to revive the downcast spirit-refresh the weary, and cheer and encourage the suffering-fell like balm upon his wounded heart: "Now no chastening for the present seemeth to be joyous, but grievous; nevertheless, afterward, it yieldeth the peaceable fruit of righteousness unto them which are exercised thereby. Wherefore lift up the hands which hang down, and the feeble knees, and make straight paths for your feet, lest that which is lame be turned out of the way, but let it rather be healed."

Not that he properly comprehended their purport-albeit he experienced their power in the sudden dispersion, so to speak, of the manifold revengeful and injurious thoughts which his brother's unjust and hateful conduct had engendered within him. Unconsciously his heart responded to the Apostle's loving exhortation, and, his moral perception being thus insensibly quickened, he realized, perhaps for the first time in his life, the momentous fact that trials are not necessarily evils, nor affliction a proof of misfortune.

The next morning his spirits appeared somewhat improved, though he still looked exceedingly pale and ill, so much so that Herbert, after a brief consultation with James Gordon (thinking that the